The Rites of the Dead
by Crimson Bttrfly
Summary: Byakuya Kuchiki faces the death of a loved one and its many complications


**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to Bleach.

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **Byakuya Kuchiki faces the death of a loved one and its many complications

**The Rites of the Dead**

Sitting behind the threshold to the room, the servant remained quiet and still. His head hung low, and an air of despair clung to his robes. He contemplated what he was going to say to Byakuya Kuchiki. Words were elusive. And, so he sat in silent mortification for the better part of ten minutes. In the back of his mind, he assessed the mood of the room. It was considerably dark; the air was thick with tension.

He could feel his master staring at him – perhaps even through him. He was also fairly certain that Byakuya had ascertained the reason for his presence. Feeling the pressure in the room steadily rise, he let out a noncommittal grunt.

"Lord Kuchiki," he began, but quickly choked on the words rising in his throat. "Dead." It was the only sound that escaped him. The word felt leaden and harsh, and it sank into the unspoken misery that filled the room.

After making the declaration, the servant's gaze immediately shot across the room to Byakuya. With the admiration and fear of a dog to a stick-wielding master, he studied Byakuya.

To the servant's amazement and horror, Byakuya's features did _not_ twist into a look distress. The lines of his face were flat. Even his eyes were blank, dead even. Indeed, he appeared to be the epitome of calm rationality on the outside.

It was all a façade. Even though he was prepared for the declaration, Byakuya could not deny that the finality of the statement stung him. It pierced him sharper than any blade could. And, the wave of emotion welling in his stomach only worked to agitate his emotional wound – like rubbing salt into a fresh laceration.

Byakuya closed his eyes, lifted his head, and locked his jaws. It was a vain try at mastering his emotions. But, the torrent of pain and melancholy swelling inside of him proved too much. "You are dismissed," he said firmly.

The servant bowed his head out of respect. "Yes." Dutifully, he slid the shoji door shut and scurried away.

From his corner of the room, Byakuya watched the servant's shadow swiftly pass down the hall. Firmly out of reach of potential onlookers, he lifted his head and stared into the ceiling.

_It had been a bad day. _

He closed his eyes, and inhaled a deep breath.

_It had been a bad week. From beginning to this dreary end…_

A chill crawled down his back as he repressed the urge to recall the harrowing news that befell him four days ago.

Strange, he could not recall what he had for dinner four days ago, yet he could conjure that image so perfectly. He could remember everything right down to the horrified looks and downcast eyes of the Fourth Division shinigami. If he kept his eyes shut long enough, he could feel the panic in the air. Workers, nurses, doctors all fluttered back and forth in chaos.

Then, there was Unohana. If he did not move; if he remained completely still and held his breath, he could see her in his mind's eye. She was concentrating so hard. Her brows were lowered, and the contours of her lips were sloped into a frown.

Beside Unohana was a small dark-headed girl. She was covered from head to feet in blood. Yes, as he remembered the event now_ she_ was there. He had neglected her presence at the time…

Byakuya exhaled a heavy breath and opened his eyes.

It was time to face the dead.

His feet knew the direction well. He had wandered those corridors a million times by now. It was all instinctual. His thoughts were numb; his heart drummed a slow beat in his chest. It was the "clack" of wood hitting wood as he opened the door that drew him from his deadened state.

His mood, however, darkened the moment he panned the tenebrous chamber. Twilight descended upon Kuchiki Manor in more ways than one. .. Sifting through the black and blue tendrils of nightfall, he saw _her_.

His suspicions were confirmed. The small, dark girl he had seen at the Infirmary was the same girl sitting so close to his grandfather. So very close she sat to death, and yet she did not appear in the slightest perturbed. She stared deeply into the sheet covering the late Kuchiki's face.

The moment Byakuya neared his beloved grandfather, she stirred. Reading his intentions, she spoke a soft recommendation: "Don't, Lord Kuchiki. It was his last request."

Byakuya bristled the moment the word "Lord" reached him. His eyes widened and he froze. He felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He was now the head of the Kuchiki clan – a role that felt so alien and loathsome at that moment.

Ignoring the strange woman's request, Byakuya sat opposite of her and began to slowly peel the cover veiling his grandfather's countenance.

"Please, Lord Kuchiki, he did not want your last memory of him to be tainted so."

"Nonsense, Woman," he castigated her.

She turned her head away so she could not see him expose the face. "Hisana," she murmured under her breath. Within the stroke of a second, she could feel the burn of his gaze on her. "The name is Hisana, _sir_."

"_Hisana_," he murmured tersely, "return to the Fourth Division."

She lifted her head in response, and took to her feet. Pivoting on the heel of her foot, she absently reached into the pocket of her kimono. Coarse parchment greeted her fingers, and she cringed inwardly.

_The note…_

Shoving her better judgment aside, she halted mid-step and inhaled a deep breath. She was a hairsbreadth from the door, her inner pragmatist noted. But, there was a duty she promised to carry out, and she, unlike the present head of the Kuchiki house, respected the wishes of the dead.

"I will alert the Fourth, and…" It did not need to be said. She was sure Byakuya Kuchiki was familiar with the customs.

Just when she began once more to the door, the same scratching of paper against flesh hindered her from exiting. She had made a _promise_, and the missive in her pocket was her sentence. She should have carried out the orders before now – before he died – but what was she to do? It happened so unexpectedly, yet so naturally. Her behavior had been dilatory for reasons unknown even to herself.

"The ablution of the body will be carried out at the Fourth, and the funeral arrangements _have been made_." It was a lie, and she hoped the falsehood was not as transparent to him as it was to her.

Stiffly, she turned and inadvertently descried his expression before bowing. The image she caught was forever burned into her mind. The stately, aloof Byakuya Kuchiki looked haunted, desolate even, as he sat in perfect seiza beside his departed grandfather.

"Good evening," she said hurriedly before escaping into the hallway.

Byakuya watched her figure disappear down the corridor before turning his attention back to his grandfather. Ginrei Kuchiki was but a mere shell of his former self. His face was grey and marred by battle wounds.

He had been well only four days ago. It was a thought Byakuya could not shake. How could it have happened so suddenly? And to _him_ of all souls?

Furrowing his brow, Byakuya lifted his head and stared into the middle distance. _'What had that woman meant by 'the funeral arrangements have been made?'_" Hisana's words had finally sunk into his conscious mind.

_Removal_

It was early morning when the representatives from the Fourth Division arrived at the estate. They wore an ease about them that suggested this was a perfunctory matter. All feeling and emotion to their job had been firmly disconnected. In a proficient drone-like manner, the two shinigami extracted the body from the manor and left – business as usual.

After watching them depart, Byakuya quietly traced the corridor back to his grandfather's old room. He had spent the night keeping watch over the body, and as he returned to the room he felt his body being pulled down by weariness.

He surveyed the area. Empty. It was just a vast space now like so many of the rooms in the estate. A clean, empty area that was utterly lifeless. The larger than life spirit that once resided in the Kuchiki manor had been extinguished.

Even though the maids had already been into the room to sanitize every inch, his eyes gravitated to the space where the futon had been. He stared into the grain of the wood, and his mind drifted to the funeral arrangement. Traditionally, the eldest son organized everything.

Byakuya's jaw tightened at the thought. His father had died long ago as had his mother. He was the heir apparent and unwitting head of the clan now. It was up to him to take care of everything…

"… _the funeral arrangements have been made." _

The sentence rang inside his head. What had she meant by it? Had his grandfather, anticipating his death, already organized everything? But, how could he? Certainly, he did not _plan_ on being severely wounded. That would not make any sense. Afterwards, he could not have possibly orchestrated a funeral for himself because he was bed ridden and very ill. The most logical conclusion, Byakuya mused, was that his grandfather had made the proper provisions long ago.

But, why? Did he not trust his grandson to take care of it all?

Before Byakuya had the chance to prickle at the thought, his attention was diverted by a stirring from the room next to him. Quietly, he moved into the corridor and peeled the door to the room back to find Hisana. She was kneeling in the middle of the floor and reading a note.

She shot the intruder an over-the-shoulder gaze. Realizing who it was, she immediately folded the paper in her hand, and hastily stuffed it into the pocket of a fraying haori. "Lord Kuchiki," she greeted him stiffly.

Again, she acknowledged him with that title much to his chagrin.

"You are leaving."

She furrowed her brows and gave him a one-over before returning to her packing. She was not quite sure how to respond. Had he made an observation; a declaration; or a question? She decided on the latter. "Yes, my job here is done," she said evenly. When she turned to examine his expression, her gaze met a darkened corridor and nothing else.

She lifted her head, regained her composure, and quietly bundled her things together. She had a task in front of her, and as daunting as it was she was going to see it through. Even if it killed her… (Or even if it went against her better judgment.)

_Preparations Made_

Once Hisana was firmly out of residence, Byakuya ordered for the room to be immaculately cleaned from top to bottom. He wanted to rid the house of any trace of days past. He wanted it all gone before the _guests_ arrived… at least, that was how he rationalized his decision.

Mindlessly, he drifted past his grandfather's room. He paused, and stared into the rice paper door.

There was so much to do. There were so many decisions that needed to be made – loose ends that needed to be tied. He had already contacted his relatives. He needed to contact the funeral home and arrange for transportation of the body back to the house. Then, the proper kimono would need to be chosen. Flowers, food, and remembrances for the dead – all needed to be selected

He inhaled a deep breath, trying to shake past the deluge of thoughts streaming through his head. There was simply no use standing around thinking about the things needing done. Finding his resolve he decided on a mode of action.

It was cold outside – even colder when he reached the undertaker's office. It was located near the Fourth Division's headquarters. Sweet irony, Byakuya would often muse as he passed that way. The place where essence was maintained was also where it was disposed. That day, however, Byakuya was not of a mind to wax poetic. Indeed, his thoughts were as bleak and dark as his features.

The moment he stepped into the store, he was assailed by a perky male apprentice. "Lord Kuchiki, condolences," he said, bowing deeply.

Word spreads quickly in the Seireitei, Byakuya sighed.

"What brings you to this humble establishment?"

Byakuya's eyes narrowed at the stupidity of such a question.

The apprentice made a nervous chuckle, and scratched the back of his head. "Um, that was stupid, wasn't it? Well, I was just asking, you know, because someone from your House has already taken care of everything. I was just wondering why you were here, you know? I guess what I'm-"

Clearly alarmed and annoyed by the boy's incessant rambling, Byakuya lifted his head and shot the apprentice a piecing glare. "Enough," he said in a calm but authoritarian tenor.

"Yes, sir!" The boy's posture became ramrod straight, adding a good three centimeters to his height.

"You said a representative from my House came here and made the requisite preparations?"

The apprentice nodded his head.

"Did you see this _person_?"

He shook his head.

"Then-"

"My father, he saw the person in question," the apprentice interrupted. "He said everything was official. The person came bearing a letter with the Kuchiki shield and Captain Kuchiki's signature."

Byakuya was incredulous. His brows lowered and knit together, and his lips pulled into a straight line. "Where is the proprietor of this establishment?"

"He went to Rukongai to collect some rare flora for the flower arrangement, sir."

"When is he expected?"

The apprentice shook his head. "I don't know, sir."

Byakuya's expression blackened as he zeroed in on the boy.

Realizing the noble's displeasure, the apprentice's mouth gaped. "I-I-I could send word when he returns."

Byakuya gave an imperceptible nod of his head, and turned to leave. An unbelievable weight rested on his shoulders – a weight that was not assuaged by his visit to the mortuary.

When he returned to the manor, he was greeted not by quiet or solitude but chaos. The clan had descended, he mused bitterly to himself. Relatives he had not seen since the last family meeting were there. Great Uncles and cousins so far removed that he remained skeptical of their connection gathered to greet him upon entry.

Questions, sniping, mindless pleasantries assaulted his senses. He was pelted by questions regarding the death, the preparations, the proper protocol, family matters, and the like. And he had not even stepped across the threshold.

With tired eyes and a look of consternation, he lifted his gaze to the crowd assembled. Just as Byakuya expected, one look was all it took to separate the sea of relatives. As he passed, all qualms, bickering, and mindless chattering ceased. An oppressive stillness blanketed the area.

Without further ado, Byakuya moved toward his room. He was just about to peel back the door when he was stopped by the sound of a meek voice.

"Master Kuchiki, I found this when cleaning the attendant's room."

He turned to see the female servant proffering a tattered haori.

_It was that woman's… She must have forgotten it in her rush to leave._

"Send it to the Fourth Division," he murmured.

"This fell out of it," she said, revealing a folded sheet of parchment.

He took the missive, and unfolded it…

The servant stood wide-eyed and fixated on her master's expression. His face appeared stony, but the atmosphere had decidedly darkened. Apprehensively, she waited for further instruction.

"On second thought, I will deliver this to her…"

Byakuya was in mid-reach for the bundled garment when he felt a sudden disturbance – a haunting quiet. He lifted his head, and turned to survey the hallway.

"_The body_," he muttered under his breath. "Place the haori and letter in my room," he said curtly, before moving to greet the undertaker and his assistants.

The men from the funeral home reverently placed the body with dry ice on the family altar. Byakuya watched in equal parts horror and relief. Everything appeared to come together so fluidly. And, he had little role to play in its execution.

"Lord Kuchiki," one man said warmly, and he bowed.

Byakuya lifted his head, and subtly he glanced over to a more secluded area. The funeral home representative nodded his head, intimating that he understood. The two men moved to a small private room. Byakuya drew the door back and turned to acknowledge the man.

"Lord Kuchiki, I realize this is a very painful time for you. But…" The man paused and exchanged knowing glances with Byakuya. It was no use skirting the matter. He fished a hand into a pocket and extracted a rolled up paper. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, the funeral representative scrutinized the items on the list.

"The arrangements," Byakuya prompted.

"They appear to be in good order. The wake will be held in two days time. The funeral will be the day after. Everything has been selected from the casket to the type of flowers that will be arranged." He handed the itemization to the new head of the Kuchiki clan.

Byakuya reviewed the list. His jaw tightened, his fingers curled into fists, and his eyes narrowed. It was identical… Everything was as recommended…

He was seething. A violent heat surged through his veins, possessing him thoroughly. It took every fiber of his being to fight through the anguish of his loss and his denial.

Feeling the waves of hurt and grief allay, Byakuya found his voice, "Payment?"

"Everything has been paid in full, Lord Kuchiki."

"Who did this?" his voice bordering on sounding minatory.

The man quickly surveyed Byakuya's face. It was evident that he did not comprehend fully. "What do you mean, Lord Kuchiki? Were you not the one -"

"No."

The man shook his head. "It was my father who took the order early this morning. He said a representative from the Kuchiki family contacted him. I naturally assumed that Father was being discreet and that you had made the arrangements."

Byakuya glowered as he thought the situation over.

'_That woman…'_

_Confrontation_

It was late, and Hisana was tired when she finally turned into her small room at the Fourth. She had been up for close to three days straight keeping watch over the late Ginrei Kuchiki. Now, as the stress around her died down exhaustion set into her body. Her eyelids were heavy and stung from sleep deprivation. Her body sagged, and her muscles resisted even the mildest exertion. It was hell even getting her small pot of soup on the hot plate. Waiting for it to heat was tedious – minutes carried the length of years from where she was sitting.

Dipping a ladle into the soup, Hisana took a small sip. _'Lukewarm,'_ she noted, _'it'll have to do. Much longer and I'll be face down in the pot…'_

She set a small black bowl filled with rice down near the pot. With ladle in hand, she was about to scoop up some vegetables when the sound of heavy knocking interrupted her. "What is it now?" she muttered to herself.

Reluctantly, she stood and crossed the floor toward the door. "Yes?" she called.

'_No answer. Nice.'_

Breathing a heavy sigh, she drew the door back. "Is this important?" Normally she was not so curt, but she was weary and in no mood for pleasantries.

When she finally looked up, her eyes widened and all of her lethargy magically dissipated. "Lord Kuchiki! I did not expect you. My sincerest apologies." She bowed deeply.

He did not appear amused. His expression was at once firm and bored.

"Please, come in," she said, retreating back into her room.

She glanced over her shoulder to examine her "guest". Byakuya seemed hesitant. He stood firmly planted three inches from the threshold. In his arms he carried a small wrapped parcel.

Hisana lifted her head upon noticing the latter. She closed her eyes, and a faint smile thinned her lips. "Come in, Lord Kuchiki. You look tired, and are probably famished."

Absently, Byakuya took a step into the painfully tiny quarters. He pulled the door behind him shut. If he was going to castigate the woman, he should at least do so in privacy… or, as much privacy as the small room could afford.

He quickly surveyed the area. Aside from the scarcity of space, he could not deny that there was something quaint about it. The decorations were minimal. A scroll here, a small lacquered desk there. Braced against a wall in the corner was a shamisen. He studied the instrument, before turning his attention back to the woman.

Hisana quickly filled two bowls with rice and vegetable soup. "It isn't much," she began, offering him the food.

Byakuya cast a disdainful look into the bowl, as if consuming such food was beneath him. But, he took it from her nonetheless.

Hisana took to the floor - seated in proper seiza. Mindlessly, Byakuya followed suit. He rationalized his behavior as being directly correlated to his growing weariness… and hunger. Otherwise, he would have simply gone on about his business with her.

Eyeing Byakuya over her bowl, Hisana took a small bite of food. His features appeared less hard and strict. She could tell that he was still clinging to his mask of austerity, but days filled with emotional distress without respite had a way of breaking souls down. She knew this well herself, and she had seen it countless occasions during her rotations at the Fourth. Some individuals were better at hiding or burying their grief than others, and the methods they chose to do so were multifarious. Some liked to drink their emotions; others liked to sleep them away (alone or with others); others tried to take more proactive steps (like revenge); some found comfort with family and friends; and some showed no emotions. She had always wondered about the latter kind. Were they dead before the tragedy or had the loss of another crushed them so thoroughly they no longer chose to feel again…

She wondered, briefly, what type of reactor Byakuya was. She did not see him as the type to drink his problems away. Obviously, judging by his red-rimmed eyes, he was not the sleeping kind. He kept very much to himself, so he wasn't the "comfort in friends and family" type either.

Hisana shook her mind free of her musings. "I think I put too many spices in the soup. There is a lot of heat," she said, making an indiscriminate gesture to her mouth.

Byakuya fixated on her with a "get to the point" stare.

Hisana set her bowl on the floor, and inhaled a deep breath. "You're here about the note, no?"

His eyes widened, and his posture stiffened. From what she could tell, he appeared slightly unnerved by her perspicacity. He, however, remained silent.

She lowered her gaze as she searched for the right words to say. It was very hard, she had to admit. First, she was not completely sure of the relationship the two Kuchikis shared. And secondly, she was not exactly a fan of the Kuchiki sitting in front of her.

Lifting her line-of-sight, she carefully studied Byakuya's visage. He was watching her intently; his gaze was almost predatory. This was not good, she appraised herself. The relationship between grandfather and grandson seemed more remote than with which she was prepared to deal.

"I assume you are interested in the 'why' part of the explanation."

His jaw-line tightened and his expression soured. "Yes, why _you,_ a mere worker from the Fourth Division selected to do this?"

Hisana tried to restrain her urge to smile or appear smug in anyway. "I am not completely sure why the late Ginrei Kuchiki chose me to make the preparations. I can only speculate."

"Then, _speculate_," he murmured - his voice cold and sharp.

Hisana bit fast against her bottom lip to prevent a knowing grin from stretching across her face. _'Ginrei Kuchiki was right about one thing… he is petulant at times.'_

"I know – he told me – that he had been planning to make his own funeral arrangements for quite some time now. That much was verified when I contacted the undertaker early this morning. He seemed to have everything in order without seeing the list Ginrei Kuchiki had given me."

"Why?" Byakuya interrupted, trying his level best to sound even but failing miserably.

Hisana nodded her head sympathetically. "I don't think he wanted to burden you with the arrangements. He knew you had enough to prepare for with the Kuchiki family and the Sixth Division. He knew you would be very taxed. And, as I said before, he had already visited with the undertaker and had organized much of it. I was just the one who happened to be sent by the Fourth Division to see to his comfort. If it had not been me then it would have been whoever else the Fourth sent."

She glanced up to see Byakuya's expression. His gaze trailed to the floor as he comprehended her meaning. For the first time that she could remember, Byakuya Kuchiki looked bereaved.

"I don't think he thought it meant so much to you. I truly think he was just being pragmatic about the situation."

"Leaving the preparations to a complete stranger is what you call pragmatic?"

Hisana pressed her lips tightly together. She had no response prepared for that question. She had figured the two men's relationship had been strained. Regardless, she did not feel that Ginrei Kuchiki's decision was made out of spite.

She had asked Ginrei Kuchiki before his death why he did not want his family to take care of the arrangements as was usual. He had just met her gaze and smiled his response. It was bittersweet, and at least for that moment she thought she understood his meaning. Now, as she faced his embittered grandson she was not so sure of herself.

"I am sorry," she said, bowing her head. "I was just following the orders of a very ill man. Was I right to do so? I don't really know. But, I made that promise to him and I was unwilling to break it."

When she found enough nerve to raise her head, she looked Byakuya Kuchiki squarely in the face. It was not as hard as she had anticipated for he had turned his cheek to her and was staring distantly in front of him. He was a man suddenly stripped of his pride and arrogance – his second skin ripped from him, leaving him exposed.

As Hisana watched him, she could not deny feeling in the wrong, but at the time she had thought what she was doing was right. Seeing the traces of pain ghost across his face, she realized that Byakuya needed the ritual as much as some needed their drink or sleep. And, unwittingly, she had taken it away from him. She had taken away the process he needed to deal with his dead.

"You know, not everything has been taken care of. I lost that note late this morning and so I had to do a lot of it from memory. If you would like -"

"He requested that you-" Byakuya began stubbornly, but he could not find the will to finish.

Hisana's lips quickly smacked shut as she thought the situation over once more. "True, but I think he would be happy to know that you helped organize it."

Byakuya looked less than convinced, but she could tell he wanted to find comfort in what she was offering. Thinking of some way to redress the wrongdoing, she extended her hand. "Do you still have the list?"

He reached into his kimono and withdrew the parchment. Wordlessly, he proffered the folded paper.

She quickly unfolded the list, smoothed out the wrinkles, and examined the contents. "See, I don't think I got the flowers right. Although, it's hard to tell with this handwriting."

Byakuya snatched the paper from her fingers, and looked it over for himself.

"Hey!" she yelped the moment she felt the parchment leave her grasp. Quietly, she watched him as he tilted his head to the side. His features narrowed as he tried to decipher the hastily written instructions.

"_Exactly_," she commented, "you don't know what it says, either."

"What _did_ you order?"

Hisana smiled politely. "Peonies, camellias, and sunflowers," she tried to muffle the latter word, but to no avail. He heard it, and raised a brow.

"Sunflowers?" he echoed incredulously.

Her smile widened and she shrugged. "That's how I interpreted early this morning when I met with the owner of the funeral home."

Byakuya did not look amused. His eyes narrowed and lips sloped into a frown. "I don't think that's what it says," he replied drily.

"Well, then what do you think it says?"

After careful discernment, he came to his conclusion. "Chrysanthemum."

"How did you get 'chrysanthemum' from 'sunflower'?" she said, moving closer to him to get a good look at the list.

"I could ask you a similar question."

Hisana grinned. "I suppose you don't want sunflowers at the wake or funeral?"

Byakuya looked askance. "No."

She smiled, and nodded. "I suppose we could go fix the matter. Rye should still be up."

"It is late," Byakuya reminded her pointedly.

"He'll be awake," she said assuredly.

_Mourning Flowers_

The two silently traveled down the darkened streets of the Seireitei to a small secluded house. Hisana knocked thrice and took a few steps back in eager anticipation. Just as predicted, the proprietor of the funeral home was still up.

Grumbling a few incoherent words under his breath, he popped open the door. "Banging on my door loud enough to wake the dead - the both of you!"

Hisana offered him a warm smile in response, and bowed deeply. "Mr. Rye."

"Miss Hisana, and who's this?" he asked, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Why, I'll be if it isn't the heir to the Kuchiki clan! You have a very good woman here, if I do say so myself. Making sure everything is prepared while you are seeing to the family and Division." He nodded his head approvingly.

Byakuya did not look flattered in the least.

"Well, how may I help you?"

"We are having a bit of a problem interpreting what flower is mentioned here," Hisana began, pointing to the item of interest.

"Come in, come in where the lighting is better." He took the parchment from her, and moved into his house.

Hisana nodded her head for Byakuya to move ahead of her. Hesitantly, he stepped across the threshold to the house. Hisana trailed behind him, making sure to shut the door behind them.

"Now, where was this little problem?"

Byakuya took the list from Rye and found the item in question. "Here."

"Oh, oh, I see. What was the problem again?"

"What does it say? We can't decide on the flower mentioned there," Hisana chirped politely.

"Oh, we'll that's easy. It clearly says 'bellflower.' What did you think it said?"

"Sunflower."

"Chrysanthemum."

Rye's brows shot up in response. "Uh," he hummed to himself. "Well, I really don't know how three people could come to three very different conclusions. I suppose what we could do is decide on which flower is the best for the occasion. Or, we could include a variation of all of them."

"Lord Kuchiki," Hisana encouraged, "which do you think is best?"

"The bellflower."

Both she and Rye nodded their heads approvingly. "Then the bellflower it is," Rye said, reaching for their file. "Now, let me make that change." He was just about to close the file when Hisana caught his attention. Her eyes widened and she made a subtle gesture to Byakuya.

"Oh, yes," Rye said, "would Lord Kuchiki like to have final approval of the plans? We could go to the funeral home, and you could see everything as it is now."

Byakuya gave Hisana a knowing over-the-shoulder look. She smiled pleasantly and tried her best to appear innocuous.

"Yes," he responded after a prolonged pause.

"Good, it is important that the living have their say in these matters. The late Lord Kuchiki was very meticulous with what he wanted, but it is best to let the living be involved."

Hisana tagged along because she knew no proper way to excuse herself, and she had been partially responsible for many of the selections made. And, as she lingered on the periphery and watched Byakuya, she wondered if this was what Ginrei Kuchiki had in mind all along. It was a stretch, but she wondered if there was some greater meaning to be taught. A lesson, perhaps, that only the dead could teach the living.

'_Exhaustion has made me maudlin,'_ she mused to herself.

She just wished that she had a definite answer to the question, "Why?"

It was mid morning when the two finally left Rye. Byakuya politely escorted Hisana back to her quarters at the Fourth. When they arrived, she bowed her goodbye. "Thank you," she said, her voice cracking from weariness.

As she slid the door open, she was halted by the sound of her name.

"Hisana," he said in a low tenor.

"Yes?"

"There is something-" he began, gesturing with his head to the small room.

She opened the door wider and nodded. Within a bat of an eye, he reappeared, holding the wrapped bundle from before. He acknowledged her politely.

She lifted her brows and parted her lips to speak. "But isn't that my-" It was too late, he was gone.

She liked to think that she would have given chase after her haori, knowing all too well that he would have bested her. But, at that moment, he could have set her house on fire and she would have just pulled the covers over her head and enjoyed the heat from the flames.

_Waking the Dead_

The wake began late in the afternoon. Everything was in order. The mood of the room was appropriately low and reverent. Close family members sat in hierarchical order nearest to the altar. Other mourners were seated behind the family. High-standing nonfamily members were placed closer to the body than subordinates or low-ranking mourners.

Hisana arrived as soon as she finished her rotation at the Fourth. She had quickly stuffed herself into a white kimono, and made haste to the wake. When she arrived there was a crowd of shinigami formed outside of the room where the body rested. Trying her level best, she attempted to catch a glimpse into the room. But, all of her effort was in vain. The sea of white was too thick, and she was too short to hope for any other view than that of the backside of some random shinigami.

From what she could tell, she had missed much of the service and the family was already offering their branches at the altar. Luckily, all of her time spent at the Fourth Division had prepared her well for the protocols of death.

After the close relatives offered their branches, the rest of the guests came in pairs to present their branches in front of the altar. Everything followed in a prescribed way, and it all moved fluidly and without a hitch.

After presenting her offering at the altar, Hisana quietly moved outside of the room. A sudden and unexpected joy wafted over her as she considered the last few days' events. Everything had come to its rightful conclusion. She smiled at the thought, before remembering the envelope she had tucked into her kimono.

"Oh, yes! How could I have forgotten?" She pulled the envelope out, and panned the area for the registry. Two women were stationed around a small table that had an open book sitting atop it. Quickly, Hisana weaved her way to the registry, and handed the taller of the two women her envelope.

"Thank you," the woman responded, bowing. "If you would please sign."

Hisana shook her head. "It is not necessary."

"But how else will we -"

Hisana bowed her reply and turned to leave.

She was just on her way out when she was stopped by the familiar intonations of her Captain. "Hisana, it is good to see you here."

Hisana wheeled around, and bowed deeply. "Likewise, Captain Unohana," she said meekly.

"I think Byakuya Kuchiki is searching for you."

Hisana's head bobbed up at the mention of his name. "What makes you say that, Captain Unohana?" she asked, attempting to quell the sound of interest from her voice.

"He mentioned you once or twice," she noted matter-of-factly.

"Oh?" Hisana mindlessly cast a look in his direction. He was talking to the Captain of the Thirteenth. "Thank you, Captain Unohana," she said bowing once more.

Unohana nodded her head before leaving her subordinate.

Hisana furtively glanced back at Byakuya. Their eyes met. She offered him a pleasant smile, and lowered her head respectfully. There was no way she was going to be able to speak with him that day. He was surrounded by so many other esteemed guests who were trying to give their condolences that a single look would have to suffice.

She gave a faint bow, and left. It was getting late anyway, she told herself.

_Token Gratitude_

It was pitch black when she finally arrived at her dormitory. Reaching her door, she nearly tripped over a curious package.

"What is this?" She bent down and scooped it up. It felt light in her arms, she noted as she slid open her door.

Flipping on a light, she glanced down at the wrapped parcel. "Um…" she hummed softly to herself. She had a sneaking suspicion what was concealed by the brown paper wrapping. She quickly tore the package open. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, my," she gasped.

It was her haori, as she suspected. What had taken her aback, however, was that the garment was fully restored. Gone were the fraying ends and tatters. Even its vibrancy had returned – it was now a bright shade of pink instead of mauve.

Overjoyed, she hugged the fabric to her chest, and glanced down to see how it looked against her. It was beautiful – a word she never thought she would associate with any of her clothing. She was just about to slip into the haori when she descried a folded paper note situated near the wrapping. She plucked the card from the floor and read it.

A small smile thinned her lips. "Perhaps I will," she said softly to herself. She placed the card on a nearby desk, picked up the wrapping, and discarded it in the trash. Then, she slid into her haori, and opened the door to her room.

Feeling the cool breeze against her cheek, she looked out onto the street. "I think I will take that walk."

She closed the door behind her, and began her stroll into the darkness. Wistfully, she wondered if she would ever see Byakuya Kuchiki again. And if she did, she wondered on whose terms it would be...


End file.
